Closed Doors, Closed Hearts
by Secret Arendelle
Summary: Anna is in a deep depression after the death of her sister at the ice palace. Her husband, Hans, is about to give up on their miserable marriage when something brings a glimmer of hope to their lives. (Major Character Death. Implied Dubcon/Noncon.)


_He'd kissed her, but he didn't reveal himself to her._

_He'd married her, but he didn't give his heart to her._

_He'd bedded her, but he didn't love her._

—

Hans stared at his wife as she stood by the small wooden table in the center of the library. She hadn't turned at the sound of his footsteps. Instead she gazed dully into the snowglobe in her hands.

He'd given that bauble to her. A long time ago.

At least…it seemed like a long time.

Back when her cheeks were tinged with a joyful pink. When even her gentle steps looked like dancing. When she'd laughed with hope and happiness and every day had been an adventure.

But now she just stared at it, watching the snowflakes swirl and settle in the clear liquid.

He cleared his throat. "Anna."

She slowly turned her head and looked at him with her empty eyes. They were still the beautiful light blue of a frosty morning sky, but the sparkle was gone.

It had been snuffed out the moment she learned that her sister was killed in her ice palace, when the intricate frozen chandelier had fallen on her.

She'd been so excited at first – the ice had melted – and she thought Elsa had finally gotten her powers under control. But when she and the ice harvester had returned to the top of the mountain, and she'd seen her sister lying motionless on the hard earth, she'd screamed out and fallen to the ground.

The guards had immediately dropped to their knees before Anna.

"The queen," they'd murmured to each other, bowing their heads.

Hans and the ice harvester had both reached for her at the same time, but it only took one look from the prince before the other man stepped back, nodding slightly in deference.

Anna had pushed past Hans, crawling for her sister's body. When she reached it, she had literally _howled_ in agony, gripping Elsa's limp form and weeping.

Hans followed her, unbuttoning his overcoat.

He placed a hand on his fiancée's shoulder. She looked up, eyes blurred with tears.

"I'm so sorry." He began to wrap Elsa's body in the coat. "We'll take her home."

"How…" Anna choked back a sob. "Who did this?"

Hans face twisted in regret. "It was an accident. Weselton's men were trying to capture her, and a stray arrow hit the chandelier." He closed his eyes. "It was fast. She didn't suffer."

Anna stroked her sister's hair as Hans slid Elsa onto the fabric. But when he began to button the coat over Elsa's closed eyes, Anna moaned. Glancing at her tear-lined face, he noticed the white streak was gone from her hair. Had it been that way when she first arrived, or had something else erased it?

Hans wasn't sure. Perhaps it had disappeared along with the ice queen's final breath.

After Elsa was wrapped tightly, Anna had insisted on riding with the body. He'd lifted Anna up in the saddle, right behind the carefully balanced bundle, before taking Sitron's bridle in his hand.

–

Hans blinked.

Anna was staring at the snow globe again.

He crossed the room and gently pulled it from her grasp. She slowly raised her head, then turned and faced him. She didn't smile. She didn't frown.

She was merely _existing_.

–

He couldn't live like this anymore.

He had to leave.

He grimaced to himself at the thought. He'd wanted the crown so badly. Now it was his, but at what cost? It was useless without the love of his bride. He couldn't stand the pitying glances of the staff and commoners. There'd be no divorce, of course, but they could remain married in name only.

Now. Where to go?

There was no place for him back at the Southern Isles.

But the sea beckoned.

He opened his closet door. The old admiral's hat sat stiffly on the top shelf.

Hans pulled it down and ran his hand over the smooth fabric.

He didn't know how he would tell her. Then again, maybe he wouldn't bother. She didn't seem to notice if he was there or not. She didn't seem to care.

She'd kissed his lips and accepted his comforts at first. She'd tried to move on. She'd even married him – even though he hadn't really been sold on the idea of a bride with a black armband.

But that night, in bed, she'd laid her hand on his chest. "I can't," she whispered. "Not with her gone. I can't stop thinking about her."

His eyes had met hers, incredulous. "But, Anna!" He'd waited for this night. Patiently. "It's our wedding night!"

She'd taken a deep breath and paused, falling still and quiet. "You're right," she finally said. "It's our wedding night." She reached down and pulled the filmy nightgown up over her head.

But it had never been good. Never been right. Never been the way it should have been.

As much as he wanted her, he knew deep down that every time she accepted him into her bed, it was only because agreeing was easier.

He came to her less and less as the weeks progressed.

He'd hoped he could win her warmth back through his skillful touch and tender kisses. Instead, she'd distanced herself from him even more.

He hadn't been to her room in five weeks.

The sea would take his mind off of what could have been. What should have been.

He placed the hat atop his auburn hair and turned toward the mirror.

Admiral Westergaard stared back. Not some man who couldn't even please his wife. Not a king who didn't even place ahead of a dead woman in his queen's heart.

–

He packed his things quietly and efficiently, only taking what was necessary. His hand paused over the snowglobe.

How her eyes had danced when he presented it to her!

He placed it on top of the clothes in his suitcase.

Then he sighed, picking the bauble up again and shaking it. The snowflakes swirled violently, then fluttered gently back into the base.

It was hers. Not his.

He left it on top of his nightstand. It would serve better as a farewell note than any words he could possibly pen.

He snapped his suitcase shut, stuck the admiral's hat under his arm, and stepped out of his bedroom. His heart felt lighter as he trotted down the stairs. Soon he'd be free of this castle of sorrow.

But when he reached for the doorknob, he was overwhelmed by guilt. He was abandoning her when she needed him the most. She wasn't in any position to run this kingdom on her own. She could barely brush her hair in the morning anymore without assistance.

He sighed as his hand touched the smooth brass.

He just wasn't strong enough for this.

He turned the knob.

"Your majesty?"

It was Kai.

Hans released the doorknob and turned around. "Nothing to worry about, good man. I'm just going on a small voyage. Should be back in—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, your majesty, but I've been sent to fetch you immediately. It's about the Queen."

"Anna?" Hans shoved his suitcase and hat into Kai's arms and ran up the stairs, two at a time.

–

He burst into her room without knocking.

Anna was sitting up in bed, silently gazing out the window.

"Your majesty…"

Hans blinked as his eyes adjusted to the low light. The royal physician was at the foot of the bed.

Hans frowned. "Is something wrong with her?" He paused. "I mean…more than normal?"

The doctor stepped forward. "She's with child, your majesty." He lifted Hans' hand and shook it briskly. "Congratulations."

Hans' eyes flew to Anna's quiet silhouette. "She's pregnant?"

The doctor nodded. "Five, perhaps six weeks along. Very early." He leaned in closer to Hans' ear. "Perhaps this will help to bring her out of her depression." He clapped Hans on the back, then picked up his black bag from the nightstand and left.

Hans shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he looked at her. She was so pale. Even her freckles were beginning to fade, since she rarely went outside. Pregnant! He'd bedded her so rarely, he didn't even think it was a possibility.

He cautiously stepped closer to the bed, then sat on the edge of the mattress. It creaked under his weight, and she turned her head to look at him.

"Hans." She smiled lightly.

He swallowed. It was the first time he'd seen her smile in months.

"The doctor was here," she said.

He placed his hand on hers. "I know. I talked to him."

"We're going to have a child," she said.

He felt a broad smile forming across his face. "I think that—"

She turned away then, looking back outside the window. A gentle breeze made the curtains flutter, blowing her hair away from her face.

She was lovely.

But would she never let him close to her heart again? What would break this curse?

–

She began to heal as the baby grew inside of her.

Hans coaxed her outside, to watch the young ducklings she had once so enjoyed playing with, and to soak up the sunshine. The freckles returned to her cheeks and shoulders.

He instructed the cook to make her favorite foods, and the maids to bring the sweetest flowers.

He treated her gently, holding her hand in the gardens and quietly reading to her in the evenings.

She accepted all of his kindnesses with courtesy and grace.

The servants began to take notice. Hans didn't see any sad glances and pitying looks anymore. Instead, he saw smiles and good cheer.

The only pleasure Hans was denied was in the bedroom. Where Anna had been compliant before, she now refused him. And when he pushed her, instead of giving in, she would go back to her detached, cold behaviors.

"Why, my love?" he asked as she stared out the window. "The doctor said it won't hurt the baby."

She didn't look at him. "It's not that."

"Then what is it? Why do you shut me out?"

Her mouth dropped open as she turned to face him. "Shut _you_ out? _You_?"

"Yes, me. Why?"

She crossed the room to the bed. "I don't want to talk about this. You're upsetting me." She put a hand on her small baby bump. "You need to leave."

"Anna, please!"

She sat on the end of the bed and said nothing.

He knew she wanted him to just walk out the door.

Instead, he crossed the room and dropped to his knee before her. He took her hands in his. "If I've done something to hurt you, my darling, please tell me. I'll fix it. I promise. On my honor."

She pulled her hands free. "That's exactly what it is, Hans. That behavior right there."

His eyebrows met in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

She stood and crossed to the window. After a moment, he jumped up and followed her.

She didn't turn to look at him. The setting sun shone bright on her face. "All of my life, Elsa shut me out with the turn of a lock." Her head swiveled, and she looked dully into his eyes. "But you, Hans…you shut me out of your heart."

"What? No! My heart is yours, darling. For all eternity."

"Those are only words."

He recoiled at her accusation. Then he frowned. "But…I love you."

She nodded. "I think that you do. Well, the best you're capable of, anyway. But you still don't reveal the real Hans to me. I only see the foppish lover you think that I want."

She looked out the window again. "I know that you almost left me before we found out about the baby. And I know that you pushed the crossbow up, so the arrow pierced the chandelier and killed Elsa."

He swallowed. "I was trying to save her, I swear it! I didn't mean—"

"And what's your excuse for abandoning me…and your child?"

He fell silent.

She placed a hand on her belly again. "I don't blame you. I wanted to run away from here too. I just couldn't find the strength to do it."

He bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

The sun dipped below the horizon, sending new shadows into the room.

She sighed. "Those are just two of the secrets you've kept from me. I know nothing of your childhood…your family…your homeland. You've never even allowed me near the depths of your heart…but you expect me to give myself, body and soul, to you anyway."

"You're my wife—"

"I wasn't healthy when we married. I just wanted you to save me, Hans. But you didn't."

Shame shot through him as he thought about all those times he'd crawled into bed with her, even though in his heart he knew she didn't truly desire it. How he'd given up trying to pull her from her mask of depression, going so far as to read the newspaper or go over piles of work at the dinner table, ignoring her completely. How he'd begun to eye the maids and serving wenches again, wondering if he'd be able to take up some of his old hobbies from the Southern Isles…or if that would be frowned on in Arendelle. "I'm…I'm sorry, Anna. I should have tried harder."

"It wasn't your battle to fight anyway, Hans. It was mine. I just hoped you would be there to support me when I fell."

Anna didn't say anything else. She just kept gazing out the window.

After a long moment, he crept to the door and slunk out.

He strode down the hall.

She'd kept secrets from him too. He knew that she had fancied the ice harvester. He knew that she blamed him for Elsa's death.

He'd never tell her he knew how she felt. He'd never demand she admit it to him. Why should he have to do such a thing, when she wouldn't?

When he stepped into his own bedroom, his eyes fell to the snow globe. He'd never moved it from his nightstand after the day he'd left it there.

He picked it up, gingerly, and shook it lightly. The snowflakes created a blizzard of flurries before sinking. He watched as the snow settled on the white-painted ground.

Then he threw it as hard as he could against the wall, clenching his jaw as it shattered, splashing water and bits of snow across the wooden floor. The base skittered to a stop next to his boot.

Hans kicked it into the corner. Wretched thing.

He should have never come here.

–

He still tried. He put on a good face for those around them. He sat next to her on the couch and admired gifts for the baby. He listened to her talk about the changes happening in her body. And at her approval one evening, he placed his hand on her growing swell and felt the babe moving against his palm. They were sitting in front of a warm fire, comfortable and cozy in the parlor, when she smiled and asked if he wanted to feel the baby kick.

She put her hand on his. He had not been invited back into her bed, but she still showed her care for him in other small ways.

Her time was drawing near, though. She might be more accommodating in the months after the birth.

He felt the foreign movements and wondered what the child's gender was. He could already see himself as a father. Even if Anna and he were never as close as they should be, he could still capture the love of their child. The baby wouldn't expect him to tell everything about his sordid past. The man he chose to portray would be the one the child believed in, always.

He could see himself teaching a son to ride a horse…or sitting at a tiny pink table, sipping pretend tea from a wee ceramic cup while a bright-cheeked daughter beamed. The image of a chubby-kneed son toddling across the parlor to him brought a grin to his lips, followed by a sigh as he pictured a tiny pink bundle in his arms, small hands clenching into fists and relaxing again as he rocked carefully in the hand-carved nursery chair.

Anna looked down at their hands together as the child kicked again. "Hans…" She hesitated.

He moved his focus from the baby to her face. Was she ready to forgive him and let this fall into their past?

She pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "If the baby's a girl…do you think we might name her Elsa?"

Hans' shoulders slumped slightly. Must her dead sister color everything in their lives?

Then he smiled. "Of course. I think that would be the perfect name for a girl. But if it's a boy?"

She put both her hands on the sides of her belly. "I just think it's a girl. It really _feels_ like a girl."

A girl. Hans looked back at his bare hand, curved into the swell that held his child. A small version of Anna, with either dark or light red hair and a faceful of freckles, running through the palace halls and squealing "Papa!" when he tugged on her braids. A daughter.

He was overcome with the very idea.

Hans leaned forward and kissed Anna's belly lightly. Then he stretched up and brushed his lips against hers. "I love you."

She put her hands on the side of his face and gazed into his eyes. "Let me in."

He said nothing.

The baby kicked again, making her belly bounce visibly. "Whew!" She looked down and moved her hands to the front of her dress. "That was a big one."

Hans reached for his newspaper.

–

Hans sat in the hall outside of Anna's bedroom, waiting. He'd been here for hours. For a long time, he'd paced back and forth down the hall, but when his legs finally began to ache, he moved to the wooden chair.

He looked at the clock again. How long did these things take?

He'd tried to ask the midwife's assistants when they came and went, carrying buckets or piles of rags, but they'd simply shake their heads and scurry to wherever they were going.

Anna began to scream on the other side of the door.

He jumped up, cursing himself for agreeing to wait outside in the first place. He turned the doorknob. It was locked.

He hit the door with the palm of his hand. "Unlock this at once!"

The royal physician's voice came back, firm and strong. "It's crowning, majesty! Almost time! I can't spare any hands to come for you."

He could hear Anna crying out in pain. At least she wasn't screaming any more. He stood outside the wooden door, waiting for someone to come and open it for him.

It seemed like everyone else in the room was talking or shouting at once. Hans could hear the doctor's voice above the others, shouting for more towels, for scissors, for blankets.

Suddenly, everything fell silent.

Hans stood at the door, afraid to breathe.

Then Anna began to shriek.

Hans shook the doorknob again, but no one came. What was wrong with Anna?

Without thinking about what he was doing, he raised his boot and kicked the door open.

The doctor was shaking his head as he looked at Hans. "I'm so sorry, your majesty."

The midwife didn't look up from the yellow blanket she was holding, bundled in her arms.

The bundle was so still.

Anna sobbed.

Hans stepped toward the midwife and reached for the blankets. She handed it over without meeting his eye.

He pulled away the blanket covering the baby's face.

The child was perfect. Pale skin…pink lips…platinum white hair.

But he was dead.

"Oh, God!" Hans cried. He staggered on his feet, nearly toppling himself in an effort to not drop the perfectly formed, still child.

His son. His firstborn. The precious baby that kicked his hand from within. There would be no rocking this child, or watching him take his first steps, or seeing him become a man. It was over almost before it had begun.

The doctor gently took the baby from Hans' arms. "We did everything we could. He had…the curse, your majesty. And once he was away from his mother's warmth…well…he just wasn't strong enough to make it on his own."

Hans sagged to his knees in anguish as hot tears began to run down his face.

"I want to see him." Anna's voice sounded dull again.

Hans looked up to see the doctor pulling back the blanket, revealing the beautiful child to the queen. Her face crumpled as she wept at the sight.

Anna.

Hans crawled closer to the bed and got up on his knees, wrapping his arms around her as the doctor carried the yellow bundle away. She clung to him, soaking his shirt with her tears as the midwives silently cleaned the room around them.

–

That night, he lay next to her in her bed. Their son had been conceived in this bed. He'd been born here…and he had died here.

He put his arm around her. "I love you."

"No." She pushed him away. "I can't believe you would—"

"Shh." He pulled her into his arms. "I love _you_, Anna. I don't want anything else from you. I just want to love you."

She began to cry again. "I can't believe he's gone." Her hand slid down to her stomach. "I feel so empty." Her haunted eyes reached his. "He was alive this morning and now he's gone! I shouldn't have let him die. I should have saved him somehow!"

"There's nothing either one of us could have done."

"I couldn't even take care of my child! What kind of mother is that?"

He felt a dampness on his arm and looked down. Her breasts were leaking through her nightgown and onto the sheets. Hans' stomach sank at the sight of the nourishment his son would never receive.

"You're a good mother."

"I'm not a mother."

"You are." He pulled her tightly to his chest. "You cared for him for nine months. I saw you talking to him…singing to him…eating things you hated for him. You gave yourself to him, and I know beyond a doubt that he felt your love."

She sniffed before looking up at him with hope in her eyes. "Do you think so?"

He nodded. "The Good Book teaches we'll be with him again one day, Anna. He'll tell you himself. He'll…he'll call you Mama with his own lips."

She cried again, but it wasn't as hysterical as before. He held her while the tears ran down both of their faces, dampening the pillow with their sorrow.

–

They stood on the hill, clutching each other as the priest waved the scented incense through the air.

It was overcast, and misting slightly. Hans felt a grim correctness in the weather – it should be dreary on the day their son went into the earth. The tiny grave had been dug next to Elsa's.

The stone had been set the day before. _Here Lies Prince Eskil Westergaard, firstborn son of King Hans and Queen Anna_.

As the gravedigger began to shovel soft earth back over the coffin, Anna's knees buckled. Hans caught her and held tight.

He finally understood what she'd been going through after Elsa had died…and he wished that he'd never had to take on the knowledge. As the grave slowly filled, he felt her shudder against him. No matter what he was feeling, he knew it was even harder on her. She'd had nine months with the boy inside her. They'd shared their lives for that time. And now her arms were empty.

He helped her stagger back down the hill, where the carriage was waiting to take them back to their childless home.

She was weaker than he'd ever seen her.

He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close as the driver clicked to the horses.

He'd find a way to help her. This time, he would be the man she needed him to be.

He swore he would never let her down again.

–

**THE END**


End file.
